


Moonrises over the Horizon

by BeautifulThief



Series: Werewolf!Kise-verse [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, M/M, slow build-ish, tags added as necessary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 21:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2826146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulThief/pseuds/BeautifulThief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the age of eight, Kise Ryouta was bitten by a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ninanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninanna/gifts).



> Christmas gift-fic for ninanna, who commented on Take Me Home, my submission for takaomine's prompt in bps's Special Request Round for AoKise with monsterboy!Kise, saying that she wanted a multi-chapter fic she could worship properly. ;) You were not the only one. Do you know how many people asked me to continue with this fic. So many. Literally every review and comment I got on it asked me why there wasn't more at some point, if it wasn't the entire point of the review/comment. orz
> 
> I hope this doesn't disappoint anyone (but especially not you, my dear~).
> 
> Merry Christmas <3

Kise Ryouta had not always been a werewolf.

He was almost nine years old when he was bitten.

It was, at the time, considered a highly unfortunate accident.

 

* * *

 

He was a silly kid; an indulged and spoiled youngest child and only son. At eight years old, the explanations for why he wasn’t supposed to go outside one evening a month disappeared from his brain almost as fast as they entered it.

His sisters had been fighting all day that day; his parents had been distracted trying to sort out their quarrel, and stop them from hitting and scratching and pulling each others’ hair. Ryouta had taken the chance in the confusion, to wander outside.

In all honesty, Ryouta never did remember very much about that night. What was imprinted on him about the whole thing was the morning after, when he’d woken up in the hospital surrounded by the pale faces of his parents, the teary eyes of his sisters, and a dull throbbing in his arm from where the dog he’d tried to pat had bitten him.

His parents and the doctor were still speaking; they hadn’t noticed he was awake. Ryouta’s sisters were probably supposed to tell them, but it was obvious they were listening into what the doctor was saying to their parents instead.

“...that bit him will probably come looking for him,” the doctor said. “They have an honour code like that, if they’re the good ones. The packs in this area are quite nice; we’ve only had a handful of incidents over the years, but they always come to find out if they lived and look after them if they did.”

His parents looked over at that point, and that was when they finally noticed he was awake. Ryouta was fussed over, which was always nice, and then his parents and the doctor went outside to keep talking. His sisters were more attentive to him than usual after they’d left.

“Does it hurt?” Satomi, the younger sister, asked.

Ryouta shook his head, and both of them seemed a little relieved. They pulled out some of Ryouta’s toys then; the stuffed dog he had named Puppy that he slept with at night was placed in his lap, and his gameboy on the bedside for later. It was a bit embarrassing that they brought Puppy in – he was a big boy! – but he was also glad to have him there, too.

The stranger came in a bit after midday.

First, the doctor called his parents out of the room again.  They had been sitting and watching him and his sisters up until then, and it hadn’t occurred to Ryouta that this might be strange, or that they should be somewhere else at this time. Instead, he was playing tea parties with his sisters. He didn’t usually like playing tea party with them, but there wasn’t really anything better to do while he was stuck in bed like this.

He and his sisters looked up when their parents left. Through the glass they could see the person they were talking to was a young woman, though to Ryouta’s eyes at the time she was an adult.

His sisters were called out by his parents when the stranger entered.

She stood next to his bed, twisting her fingers together for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Why?”

She looked at him. “I bit you. I’ll do my best to take care of you.”

Ryouta frowned. “A dog bit me.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked at the floor. “My name is Takahashi Shizuka. I’m a werewolf, and last night I bit you.”

Ryouta blinked at her. “Oh.” He tried his best to remember what he’d been told about werewolves. That... explained a lot about why he was here. “Am I a werewolf too now?”

“Yes. I’m very sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

She looked like she was about to cry. When girls cried, people got in trouble – Ryouta saw it happen all the time at school. He didn’t want to get into trouble, because he didn’t _do_ anything. Adults liked it when he smiled, so he did.

“Don’t cry. I’m okay!”

He got up on his knees and patted her hair. His parents and sisters did that when he cried. “Shizu-chan said she’s going to take care of me, right? Don’t cry.”

She took a deep breath and gave him a wavering smile. “I’ll... I’ll come to fetch you next month okay? And introduce you to our pack.”

Ryouta nodded. “Okay.”

He sat back down then, and pulled Puppy back into his arms.

 

* * *

 

For the month following the bite, Ryouta found himself feeling distant from a lot of his classmates.

Part of it was, of course, coming back to school with his arm all wrapped up. His parents had said he was free to say why, but somehow Ryouta had gotten the impression that they didn’t want him to, so he didn’t. A lot of kids were curious, especially when Ryouta kept the resulting scar covered up too – it would probably be easy for people to figure out, he thought, if they saw the bite shape.

Having a secret as big as _I’m a werewolf_ made him feel different. Even though he didn’t really feel like a werewolf. After all, he hadn’t actually _turned into_ a werewolf yet. But somehow it seemed like there was an impossible distance between him and all the other kids he used to play with.

More than that, he was a bit worried about this whole werewolf transformation thing. It was coming up surprisingly fast, and he didn’t really know how to feel about it.

On the one hand, it _sounded_ kind of awesome and special and magical? On the other hand, it sounded kind of scary and maybe painful. Ryouta didn’t like hurting. He didn’t want to hurt. He didn’t like talking about to his sisters or parents about his fear, though. The first few times they’d adopted a quiet, sad kind of expression, and he hated the way it felt to be looked at that way by them. And then of course he couldn’t tell any of the kids at school.

It was a bit lonely.

Shizuka came for him in the late afternoon the day of the full moon after his bite. It had been quiet about the house; Ryouta knew it was because of what was going to happen.

He was going to turn into a full werewolf tonight.

Shizuka had come around a few times during the month, asking if he had any questions or if he felt worried at all. He’d always said no, because he didn’t really have any questions, and he hadn’t really wanted to tell her he was scared. She was still a stranger, after all.

When they left the house, his hand was curled in hers. Ryouta wasn’t sure if it was for his sake or for hers, but he didn’t really mind either way, for once.

“Will it hurt?” he asked as they walked down the street.

She squeezed his hand. “Yes.”

Ryouta frowned and kicked at the ground. “I don’t want to hurt.”

Shizuka squeezed his hand again. “I know,” she said quietly.

It wasn’t until they were approaching the meeting point - a small community hall based within a park - that Ryouta realised there were no other children around.

He started feeling really nervous then. But Shizuka said she would take care of him, right?

They started with introductions. Shizuka kept a firm, comfortable grip on Ryouta’s hand – he could pull away if he wanted or needed to, but unlike usual he doesn’t quite feel like bouncing around and chattering the ears off of anyone who’ll listen to him about what sports he tried today and how far he got in his games and what he learned in school. He found some comfort in Shizuka’s relative familiarity while surrounded by all these strangers.

He couldn’t remember most of their names, but most of them seemed very nice. Some of them send looks he doesn’t understand in Shizuka’s direction, but they patted his head and smiled at him when he introduced himself – “My name is Kise Ryouta, I’m almost nine!”

The next closest to him in age is fourteen. He looked bored and kept checking his watch for the time; it’s starting to get dark.

The adults started taking off and folding their clothes. Some of the teenagers are shy and embarrassed as they do so, and Ryouta noticed that people respectfully kept their eyes averted. Most still wore underwear of some kind.

“Clothes get ruined in the transformation,” Shizuka said to the unasked question. “Here, pass me your things, and I’ll put them with mine.”

When everyone’s done, they all wander outside. It’s a little bit cold; someone locked the door.

“Almost time,” someone muttered.

Shizuka sat cross-legged on the grass and tugged Ryouta over to sit in her lap. He squirmed a little, starting to feel uncomfortably pinpricks underneath his skin.

The pack huddled around them; any shyness is forgotten, because Ryouta felt hot and the pinpricks are getting worse and it _hurts_ , and the skin on Shizuka’s hands was getting rougher as they run through his hair and rub his arm and he didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Everything started to get very confused at that point. In all honesty, Ryouta didn’t remember a lot of it.

The few things he would later be able to remember later included knowing and sensing and feeling the pack reaching out for him, but not knowing how he could tell through the pain; and he could remember the way that his pack-mother’s fur felt against his back as she curled herself around him while his own body struggled to make the first change.

He remembered that first moment after the confused agony began to dissipate and feeling safe and protected and surrounded by Pack.

 

* * *

 

Shizuka took him to the hospital first thing in the morning.

Honestly, the overriding feeling Ryouta had was mainly that of exhaustion; he hadn’t slept last night. He stumbled more than once as they walked, and was greatly relieved when they arrived, even though he _still_ wasn’t being allowed to sleep.

“Why?” he complained.

“It’s standard procedure, Ryouta-kun,” said the doctor checking him out, and he groaned. It was the same doctor as last time. “Especially because of how young you are.” The doctor looked at Shizuka. “Are his parents on their way?”

Shizuka nodded. “The plan was to meet here this morning, because we weren’t sure...”

The two of them glanced at him, and he sighed heavily.

“I’m tired,” Ryouta whined, interrupting whatever was going on between the adults. “I want to go to bed.”

“You can sleep after you answer a few questions for me, Ryouta-kun, how about that?” the doctor asked. “Are you sore anywhere?”

“No.”

“Everything looks the same?”

Ryouta made a face at him. “Yes.”

“You can hear okay?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Nowhere is numb or tingling?”

“No.” Ryouta flopped back on the bed. “Is this almost over?”

The doctor smiled, but he didn’t look very amused. “Yes. Go to sleep, Ryouta-kun. We’ll wake you when your parents get here.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“Takahashi-san, what can you tell me about Ryouta’s transformation?”

Even though Ryouta remembered thinking that he wanted to listen, he was asleep before he knew it.

He woke up in his own bed, because his sisters were shaking him.

“What is it?” he mumbled.

“Ryouta, what was it like?” Satomi asked. “Ack!”

The eldest of the three of them, Nariko, at the imperious age of thirteen years old, had dropped her fist on Satomi’s head. “We’re supposed to ask if he feels _okay_ talking about it first, Mama said,” she scolded. Satomi, ten and irrepressible, sighed in response. “ _And_ we’re supposed to wait until after lunch.”

This woke Ryouta further, despite still feeling tired. He was _hungry_. “Lunch is ready?”

The two of them nodded. “Mama said to wake you up because you didn’t have breakfast,” Nariko said.

“We had to be quiet all morning because you were sleeping,” Satomi added, sighing. “Mama kept shushing us.”

Ryouta got out of bed. “I’m hungry,” he announced. “And I don’t really remember a lot about it.”

It was a lie; he remembered enough to know he definitely didn’t want to talk about it. But his sisters seemed to accept it, though Nariko looked a little sceptical.

“How did I get home?” he asked when they got to the kitchen. His sisters giggled.

“Papa carried you,” Satomi said. “He said they couldn’t wake you up!”

“Least I can still be carried,” Ryouta answered, sticking his tongue out at them. “Not like you.”

He was easy catch in his still-just-waking state, but his shrieks as his sisters hit him with pillows was enough to bring their mother over to break up the fight, and he was probably a little bit more pleased than he should have been when they got told off.

Nariko and Satomi would ask what it was like on a number of other occasions, but Ryouta never really knew how to explain how it felt. His memories were very clear, but he didn’t have the words, and he didn’t think any other wolf did either, to talk about what it was _really_ like to those who could never understand.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not until Ryouta is older that he learned how easily he could have died.

He’d been twelve and in his last year of Elementary; one of the most boring parts of the year was the day when a werewolf or two would come in and talk to students about being careful on full moon nights and not going outside, because it’s a bit _late_ for him now. He never skipped it, though. Skipping it is a clear sign you’re a werewolf, since werewolf kids get a free pass from the lecture. While there’s no prejudice in his class, Ryouta liked to reveal his nature at his own deciding, and usually to individuals rather than a full class.

Usually, visiting werewolves come from out of area packs, so they don’t compromise any kids’ status if they’ve chosen not to tell anyone. Ryouta gets _looks_ sometimes from visiting wolves that make him bristle, but especially the first year after he’d been bitten, he’d just wanted to growl at them and make them leave, because they looked so _shocked_.

No one’s ever explained to him properly why it is that he can tell who’s a wolf and who isn’t, but he knows it’s something that all of them can just sense.

This year, the wolves eyes flicked to him but they don’t give him a look like they have in earlier years. Ryouta learned why after the obligatory lecture is over. He spent most of it staring out the window. Nothing they have to say applies to him – he’s on the _other_ side of the werewolf experience these days.

His teacher asked him to stay back after classes finished for the day. A few students giggle; Ryouta is often scolded for his disastrous grades.

For once, it’s not about his grades.

The two werewolves from earlier are waiting with a few other kids. None of them are from Ryouta’s class, but all of them are around the same age. Ryouta isn’t sure why they’re all here until the werewolves started speaking about First Transformation.

He raised his hand. The rest of these kids must have werewolf heritage, and that’s fine, but _he_ was bitten. He’s already gone through first transformation. He doesn’t need this.

The one speaking paused, and nodded at him.

“Can I go?” he asked. His eyes are half-closed; it’s after school and he’s bored and wanted to go _home_. “I’ve already been through first transformation. Did you not get close enough to sense it on me?”

“You’re not old enough for that,” the younger man argued. The woman with him waved her hand and he quieted. She must have a higher rank in their pack.

The rest of the kids are looking at him in surprise too. They’re _definitely_ all heritage kids; that explained why he hadn’t sensed any of them as wolves yet. They’ll transform when puberty really starts to hit in the next few years. Shizuka had explained that to him when he’d asked why there were no other kids for him to play with after his third transformation.

It’s different when you’re bitten, though Ryouta’s never thought much about why.

“I didn’t,” she agreed. “You’re an early bloomer.”

He could leave it at that, but for some reason it seems like that would be an embarrassing thing for the other kids to leave thinking about him. “I was bitten,” he said. “Can I go now?”

The two wolves had traded looks, but he was reluctantly released. Ryouta wouldn’t have thought anything of it until one of the girls from the special lecture pulled him over a few days later after school and, cheeks flushed, had confessed that she had a crush on him because of how _strong_ he must be.

“What?”

Ryouta was more confused than anything.

 “Well, kids that get bitten don’t survive first transformation very often! And I was in your class back then you know! You came to school with a bandage on your arm, and I figured it out! That’s why you didn’t show anyone, because it was a _werewolf bite_!”

He’d narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s private,” he said, and the girl – he couldn’t remember her name – had gone pinker.

“I won’t tell!” she promised. “You’re really special, Kise-kun!”

Well, yes. He knew that already.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to go now? I’m sorry; I don’t really like you in that way.”

She sighed. “I’ll come back when I’ve transformed!” she promised.

Ryouta rolled his eyes after he’d turned away. What was it with girl wolves and the whole mating thing anyway? That was like the most _boring_ part of being a werewolf. It wasn’t even like it worked that way _either_. Shizuka had taken it upon herself as his pack-mother to explain it when one of the older teenage girls in their pack had moved to a different pack because she thought she’d have a better chance of finding a mate there.

“What about you?” he’d asked. He’d follow her wherever she went, of course; she was his pack-mother, and he wasn’t ready to run on his own yet.

She’d smiled patted his head. “I have you to take care of, Ryouta.”


	2. Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I initially wanted... to... have this done... closer to ninanna‘s birthday but uh. That. Didn’t... happen. BUT HERE’S THE FIRST PART OF MY TEIKOU ARC SO... yay...?
> 
> Have precious werewolf baby my darling <3

The beginning of junior high should have marked a new beginning in Ryouta’s life.

No one here knew that he was a werewolf; the scarring on his arm had faded away significantly, and was easy enough to hide on his pale skin, so long as he was careful when playing outdoor sports...

Well, that was if he could find one that was worth sticking at, after all.

He was _bored_.

Well, he’d been bored at elementary school too, so it wasn’t as if it was a surprise at all. Girls whispered about him as he wandered around. Some boys recognised him from sports circuits he’s joined and left in the last few years.

He probably would have looked more for something to play if Nariko, who’d gotten into modelling in the last few years, hadn’t organised for him to have portfolio pictures taken. “ _You complain that you’re bored all the time_ ,” she’d said, “ _so why not try modelling like me? You’ll earn some money and it’ll be something to do. And you have such a lovely face, Ryouta! You should do something with it. You were born to be a star_!”

Ryouta didn’t think he believed he was born for limelight, but he _did_ like being the centre of attention, and he _was_ bored, and having money seemed like it would be fun.

So he’d spent most of the first year at school scraping by in his classes by the skin of his teeth and charming his teachers, and modelling. His mainly female fanbase isolated him from a lot of the boys, who could probably have gotten over his uncanny abilities at sports in PE, showing up the stars of the school teams in class, if he wasn’t also very popular with their female classmates.

It made it kind of lonely at school, but Ryouta had his Pack, so he told himself it didn’t matter that much. His pack was everything that he needed.

Though even as he told himself that, there were only a few people around his age in the pack, and none of them were really people he’d choose to spend time with if they weren’t Pack. Sometimes they would treat him differently, too, since they had all known each other pretty much since they were born, and had grown up knowing that they were going to be each other’s Pack; in that way Ryouta would be the odd one out within the few kids his age until they all reached adulthood, and people started moving between packs as mates were found.

He knew the Pack Elders frowned upon the other young werewolves treating Ryouta as an outsider - after all, Ryouta had been running with the pack longer than any of the other children because of his circumstances, and if there was anyone who was more part of the pack by that reasoning, it was _him_ – but it didn’t stop the way that they could be very insular.

Modelling was a good distraction from these things. It was a really good ego boost as well, though Ryouta knew it was particularly shallow to enjoy all the attention he got just because he was good looking.

He was starting to wonder if boredom was all he was ever going to be expecting from life when he took a hit to the head as he was leaving the school grounds one afternoon.

Ryouta would never be able to explain what pulled him to follow after the kid who’d come to fetch the ball that hit him, but if there was any one event in his life that he would say properly, _properly_ changed it, he’d always say it was that moment; the one where he first saw Aomine Daiki playing basketball.

Of course, he’d never tell anyone that. He already knew his answer was supposed to be _getting bitten by a werewolf_.

It wasn’t the first time that he’d gotten a calculating look from a coach when he handed over his medical record. Lycanthropy isn’t rare, but it’s not exactly a common affliction either. Ryouta could tell by the way the coach looked at him that there wasn’t another one on the team; that maybe there’s never been another one on the team while he was coaching. Most sports teams avoided camps that coincide with the full moon just because parents don’t like the idea of their children being away and only under mild supervision at such a dangerous time, but...

“We can accommodate it,” the coach told him, and Ryouta was surprised by how relieved he felt about the admission.

In front of him, all he can see is Aomine.

 

* * *

 

Basketball is at once the best and worst thing that ever happened to Ryouta, and he would never be entirely sure how he felt about that.

It was amazing, being surrounded by people who were just as talented as he was. Even though some of them could be weird and eccentric (Midorima, who didn’t seem to like Ryouta all that much), or cruel (Haizaki, who had some strange fixation on him?), or just plain impossible to understand, no matter how much Ryouta wanted or tried to (Kuroko), it was still the best thing that he’d ever done, the only thing that had ever lifted his boredom so far off his shoulders that he felt as if it might never come back again.

Aomine.

Ryouta begged as much time off him as he could as soon as he made it onto the first string. Aomine, who he couldn’t copy, Aomine, who beat him every single time. _Aomine_.

It was the first full moon after he’d been hit by that ball, just after he’d made first string, and he shouldn’t have been so surprised that the pack noticed his good mood. But somehow, it still caught him off guard the way that the other kids looked so shocked, and the way that the adults seemed somehow... relieved?

“Did something good happen, Ryouta?” Shizuka asked.

He beamed at her, and she blinked. “I joined the basketball club! It’s amazing, Mama, there’s this boy and he’s _so good_ , I can’t copy him at _all_! I’ve never met anyone like that!”

She laughed – she was starting to get too short to pat his head, he noticed as she reached to do so. “What have I told you about calling me that?” she said. “But I’m glad that you’re so happy. It’s been a while since I saw such a sunny smile on your face.”

He pouted at her. “But you’re my pack-mother,” he said. “Wait, what do you mean? I smile all the time!”

She walked past him into the community hall. “Come on, Ryouta,” is all she said in response. She was still smiling, though.

“Shizuka-chan,” he whined even as he followed behind her. “What did you mean by that? Tell meeeee.”

She shrugged. “Well, you’ve just seemed very... I’m not sure I’d say unhappy, necessarily. Perhaps ‘dissatisfied’? Either way, I missed those smiles. You were such a sunny child, you know.”

“Now you _actually_ sound like my mother,” Ryouta teased. “If you’re going to talk like my mother I’m really going call you Pack-mama.”

Shizuka looked back at him wearily. “You make me feel _old_ , Ryouta.”

“You’re not that old, Mama!”

She turned around and went to smack the back of his head. He could have easily dodged it, but he _did_ kind of deserve it... Shizuka was very conscious about her age and about how she was still single despite being very close to her thirties.

So he let her cuff the back of his head, like a true mother wolf annoyed by her pesky pup, and smiled as they went inside the hall.

 

* * *

 

He’s late to morning practice the second month he’s part of the team, and the first month that he’s on the first string for. He’d woken up later than he needed to, mostly because setting an alarm on the full moon morning was impossible – there’s no way to guarantee the wolf will sleep near where you leave it.

He was already running through explanations in his mind for the rest of the team as he pulled his clothes on and dashed off home, belatedly yelling his farewells to the pack. The time on his phone said it was too late for him to make it to practice, but that he still needed to be quick if he wanted to clean up before school.

Strictly speaking, the school would let him skip his morning classes altogether, but Ryouta’s made a habit of not pulling the werewolf card because it makes it too obvious to his classmates – he can pass off missing practice as oversleeping. He’ll say he stayed up too late watching movies or something, if anyone asked.

It’s not an excuse he can pass off to the team for too long without it becoming suspicious, though, and it’s inevitable that he’ll miss morning practice when it coincides with the morning after a full moon. Nijimura and Akashi, as captain and vice, have already been informed of his condition. Initially he had found it frustrating to have the choice of disclosing the information to other students taken away, even if just in the interest of protecting the information about his condition, but now that he’s actually met them and spent some time with them, he doesn’t mind quite as much that they know; he’s comfortable assuming they’ll both mind their own business, and not spread it around.

But he wasn’t sure how he felt about sharing it with the rest of the team just yet. Especially Haizaki – they don’t get along even the tiniest little bit, and Ryouta could just tell that he was waiting to get his hands on something to use against him.

It wasn’t that Ryouta was ashamed of being a werewolf. He just wanted to be in control of the people who were aware of it, and how and when they were made aware.

Ryouta didn’t really expect to have his absence at practice noted, not even by Murasakibara, who shared his class. He simply didn’t care enough to bother seeking out an answer, so of all the people in the basketball club to share class with, he was probably the most ideal.

Murasakibara wasn’t in class from practice yet when he slid himself into his seat, and he would have sighed if he hadn’t had to flash a smile at some of the girls in his class and who’d come from other classes to visit him and give him things.

When Murasakibara lumbered his way into the classroom, the way he’d taken to doing ever since he’d shot up like a weed towards the end of last year and started to reach a size so ridiculously large and tall for their age that Ryouta had noticed him, Ryouta spared him a smile and a wave – always a wasted effort, since Murasakibara only cared if Ryouta was waving a snack at him – Ryouta didn’t expect to see Momoi trotting behind him.

“Where were you this morning, Ki-chan?” she asked.

Clearly, she either hadn’t asked Nijimura or Akashi, who would have just told her it was personal; or she had and had found the explanation unacceptable to her insatiably curious nature.

Either way, it left him in a difficult spot. Momoi was smart; there was no way he was going the next two years without her figuring out what was up with him, so the best thing to do would be to tell her. But class was going to be starting soon, and he wasn’t going to tell her his little secret when all his classmates were within earshot.

“Good morning to you too, Momocchi,” he greeted her, and tried to distract her with a smile. Unfortunately, she was made of much less malleable stuff than most of the girls he interacted with. “Something came up,” he said, vague, and waved a hand. “Akashicchi and the Captain were okay with it.”

She looked him over incredibly critically. Ryouta had managed to find the time for a shower this morning, but even so, he had to prevent himself from nervously rubbing his face or his hair to make sure there was no dirt or grass in it.

Momoi’s eyes narrowed, and despite himself, Ryouta felt himself shrink a little.

The bell went.

“I’ll figure it out,” she told him, and turned and swept out in an exit so well put together Ryouta would give it a nine out of ten.

He had planned to tell her, but who was he to deny Momoi her fun?

 

* * *

 

So while the first people on the first string to know about Ryouta’s condition were Akashi and Nijimura, courtesy of their positions as captain and vice, the first one to figure it out without being told, either by Ryouta himself, or his medical records, was Momoi.

Granted, Ryouta would admit that Midorima might have figured it out faster, since he was certainly smart enough, but since Momoi was the first one to say something, he had mentally awarded her the win.

He’s not sure _exactly_ when she figured it out, since he made a game of trying to make it _difficult_ for her to put the pieces together, but Momoi was a bright girl and Ryouta knew it. It wouldn’t have taken her _very_ long.

She was the one who ended the game.

Momoi caught him after playing one on one with Aomine one evening. No matter what anyone says, boys can take _just_ as long to get ready as girls, and Ryouta had been quick to discover that Aomine liked to indulge in long showers after playing basketball.

He didn’t live in the same direction as Aomine and Momoi, but he was waiting with her anyway so that she didn’t have to be alone.

“Hey, Ki-chan,” she said, diverting him from his topic. “Were you born a werewolf?”

“Hmm, Momocchi hasn’t been able to figure that out?” he answered with a grin. “I’m disappointed.”

She huffed at him, and he pushed up the sleeve of his jumper to show her the bite scarring. It had faded significantly over the years, so it was hard to make out against his fair skin; but he knew when she leaned in closer and held onto his arm to get a better look, which she did, that she would easily be able to make out what it was. The pattern was distinctive, after all.

“That’s not a new bite,” she muttered. “So you were bitten a few years ago... I’m surprised you’re alive.”

Ryouta shrugged, and pulled the sleeve back down. “It’s not worth dwelling on,” he said. “How’d you figure it out, anyway?”

Momoi’s mouth curved. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He was about to start whining at her to explain - he really _had_ been trying his hardest in their little unspoken game - but Aomine came out of the change room then.

“You’re still here, Kise?” he asked, and raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“I was keeping Momocchi company, since you were making her wait!”

“Totally unnecessary,” Aomine said. Momoi aimed a kick at his leg.

“Ki-chan’s a _gentleman_ ,” Momoi defended him. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aomine said, waving his hand; but they all set off towards the front gates together anyway.

“You live in the opposite direction, right, Ki-chan?” Momoi asked as they walked.

“It’s lonely walking home alone,” he agreed. “I wish I had a Momocchi to walk home with!”

“No you don’t,” Aomine instantly disagreed, throwing an arm over Ryouta’s shoulder as he did. “It’s a pain.”

The reason for Aomine’s pulling him closer was quickly evident, as Momoi struggled to aim a kick at him past the shield of Ryouta’s body.

“You don’t deserve to have Momocchi as your walking home companion,” Ryouta told him, but he didn’t pull away from where Aomine had him held. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had the _energy_ to after that practice and all those one-on-one games in the first place.

Ryouta enthusiastically waved goodbye to the both of them at the gates once Aomine let go of him (though, Aomine had messed up his hair before doing so, and now he was really going to need to find a reflective surface to fix it in), and after turning away, he made a mental note to ask Momoi in private if she knew if any of the others on the team had figured him out.

 

* * *

 

The next one to figure it out was probably Midorima, though in all honesty, Ryouta never did know if Murasakibara figured it out. He was best placed to, being in the same class as Ryouta, and yet his clear lack of interest and care meant that Ryouta was simply never sure if he actually didn’t know, or if he knew and just didn’t care. But he never said anything, so Ryouta never paid it much mind.

Ryouta was fairly sure Kuroko knew, though _how_ he knew he wasn’t sure, but he was really that very polite kind of ‘I’ll wait for you to feel comfortable telling me’ type of person; Ryouta knew he’d have to say it out loud to him eventually, because it was really only fair, but for now, he was happy to just let it sit between them.

Akashi asks Haizaki to leave the team before Ryouta has to worry too much about his secret being discovered; which leaves only Aomine.

Aomine, who is completely and utterly oblivious.

At least, Ryouta’s pretty sure he is. Aomine’s... not the _brightest_ (who is Ryouta to judge, anyway – he’s not what anyone would call the _cerebral type_ either), and he’s also not the type to just pretend things away, because he’s honest and blunt to a fault, and Ryouta’s pretty sure he’ll want to ask all those questions about what wolf packs _really_ get up to; the violent, sexy stuff.

But since he’s not fending off questions about whether or not he’s ever bitten anyone himself, or if he’s mated and _what was that like_ , what was it like to have your body feel as if it’s turning itself inside out once a month; since he’s not getting these questions, Ryouta feels safe in the assumption that Aomine doesn’t know.

It’s probably not fair to leave him out of the loop this way, but then, Ryouta also isn’t sure he has the courage to tell him, either. Sometimes people _change_ when they know what you are, and Ryouta has been looking for Aomine, or someone like him, for too long to be able to bear giving him up now.

And then there was pain.

“Oi, idiot, what are you standing there spacing out for?”

Ryouta turned to the inevitable source of the basketball that had just made contact with the back of his head, and it was second-nature to already have his eyes watering with unshed crocodile tears. 

“Aominecchi, you’re so mean!”


End file.
